by M. Malone
"She's been sleeping a lot but she's feeling better now. I'm not sure if she's up to visitors though."
"Yet, you're here?" He raises an eyebrow.
Right. I'm not sure how to answer that so I focus on the basket in his hand. "You brought food?"
He looks down and then extends his arm, the dainty basket looking ridiculously small next to him. "Kay was worried about her being alone but I didn't want her to come and risk getting sick. It's just some blueberry muffins and a little container of macaroni and cheese that Kay made for her. It's Sasha's favorite."
"Comfort food. She's going to love this." I take the basket, unsure whether he's going to want to come in. His body language isn't the most welcoming but he hasn't done anything threatening. Yet.
He turns to go then stops and looks over his shoulder. "You're Tank's brother and that counts in your favor but Sasha is a friend. So if you're here for any reason other than the right ones, just be aware that I'm watching you. And I'm not the only one."
He turns and walks back down the drive, leaving me with a basket in my hands and a trash bag at my feet.
I walk back into the house and place the basket on the counter. It’s early and Sasha probably won’t wake up for a few hours. Especially since I kept her up late last night. Shame has my fist tightening around the edge of the counter. Sasha is a good girl, the kind that probably thought doggy style was inventive sex. My dick hardens just thinking about the prior night. I was demanding, barely giving her time to catch her breath between orgasms before I was working my way back inside her. No doubt she’ll be sore today as well.
It would be all well and good if I were the kind of guy who sticks around. The boyfriend type who would run her a bath to soak her sore muscles and spend the day cuddling and reassuring her.
But Eli’s visit just reminds me of the obvious. I’m not the boyfriend type and sticking around as long as I have is only going to make it harder when it’s time to leave. Harder for Sasha. Even though she thinks she can handle a little fun between the sheets, she’s not the type who can share her body and not her heart.
Worse, the more time I spend wrapped up in her world, with her sweet brand of affection, the harder it is for me to do the right thing: leave her alone.
* * * * *
It’s been a long time since I’ve done this. I blow out a breath, eager to get this over with. While I’m waiting, I pull on a pair of thin black gloves. An image of Sasha, warm and cuddly in bed, runs through my mind. She’s probably just waking up now. Soon she’ll find my note.
Soon she’ll hate me.
I shake my head, refusing to allow myself to second guess the first rational thing I’ve done since the day I met her. It’s better she hates me than get hurt by someone aiming for me. What I’m about to do is further proof of how wrong I am for her.
A door slams across the street and I slide down further in my seat. Blade looks both ways up and down the street before he gets into the dark sedan parked at the curb. I don’t move as he pulls out, keeping my head carefully averted as he passes by.
As soon as his car turns the corner, I open my door. After glancing in both directions, I cross the street quickly, keeping my eyes on the building before me. I’m on alert for any signs of movement or life. I’ve seen no indication that anyone but Blade is here but that’s the kind of thing I can’t afford to be wrong about.
As soon as I reach the side door, I pause, struck with a moment of doubt. This feels like so much more than just picking a lock. It’s crossing a line, stepping back into waters I once swore I’d never enter again. But then I don’t really have a choice, do I? Max has brought this fight to my doorstep and the only choice I have is to fight back in the only way I can. With information.
“You weren’t kidding about being out of the game.”
At the sudden voice at my side, I jump back, fists at the ready. “What the hell are you doing, Cole? You just scared the shit out of me.”
“Didn’t take much. I wasn’t even trying to be quiet and I got the drop on you.” Cole is dressed similarly in dark jeans with a black hoodie pulled up over his head. His slightly reddish hair looks darker than usual.
“Whatever.” I fix him with a hard look. “Why are you here?”
“Call it curiosity. It was hard to get information on this dude. I figured you’d be by eventually.”
His face gives nothing away but I’ve known Cole so long that his carefully blank expression provokes a sense of dread. Although I have to give him respect. He maintains steady eye contact as he lies to me. Just like he taught me to do.
“So you’ve got spies watching this place?”
He shrugs. “I’ve got spies everywhere.”
I can only shake my head at the statement, knowing from experience how true it is, before I turn back to the door. The lock is old and presents little challenge. As soon as it clicks open, I cross the threshold and close the door silently behind us. It still looks like an old factory in here, with exposed beams and pipes in the ceilings and there’s a general air of disuse about it. Once my eyes adjust to the dim lighting, I walk down the hallway to the left, opening doors and peering into each room.
The third door I open is the only room that looks like anyone has been here. There’s a backpack, a pallet of blankets and a pillow in the corner directly on the concrete with a small stack of books next to it. I kneel next to the backpack and unzip it. There’s a jumble of clothing and a small electronic game system which makes me smile.
The image of a scary guy like Blade playing video games is highly amusing for some reason.
“Find anything?” Cole hangs back, content to let me do all the work.
“Nothing. This guy is like a ghost.”
Frustrated, I zip the backpack and lean it against the wall exactly the way I found it. The books next to the bed are all classics. Nietzsche, Hemingway and there’s even a copy of the Socratic Dialogues. The last book is in some language that I can’t identify so I take a picture of it for Luke. I carefully pull back the bedding. Under the pillow there’s a trio of knives with intricately carved designs on the hilts. They look brutal with deep, serrated edges. I cover them again, making sure to put everything back the way I found it.
I stand up, knowing my time is running out. I can’t afford to have someone catch me here. But everything I’ve seen so far just makes the sick feeling in my stomach even worse.
Everything about this guy points to a career criminal type. He’s smart enough to leave almost no trace of himself behind and without any clues to his identity I have no way to prepare for his next move.
We leave and I lock the door behind me carefully. The wind has picked up and trash blows by from one of the overturned cans down the street.
“Did you find what you were looking for?”
“Not really.” My turmoil must show on my face because he cuffs me over the head affectionately, the same way he used to when I was a kid.
“If you ever need anything, you know where I am. We can always use a pretty boy.” He’s still chuckling as he walks away.
There’s a man a few yards away, so I keep my head down as I head back to my car.
chapter ten
SASHA
Usually waking up is a long process. I’m not a morning person, never have been, and waking up feels like slogging through quicksand with cement boots on. But today my eyes pop open instantly. I’m sore. Really sore. My thighs clench and I blush remembering why I feel so worked over. I turn to the other side of the bed, which is a mess of tangled sheets.
Empty.
I sit up slowly, pushing my hair out of my face. I forgot to tie it up last night so it’s everywhere. Winding it around itself into a quick bun will have to do. I’m not up on morning after dos and don’ts but I’m pretty sure letting your man see you looking like a hot mess isn’t the way to go. After a quick visit to the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my face, I pull on a robe and head down the hall to the kitchen. Gabe likes to get up early and check email
s while he has his coffee. I’ve gotten used to the sight of him at my small kitchenette set, his large frame completely out of place in the dainty chairs.
But when I enter the kitchen, it's empty. Then I see the note on the counter and I just know. In an instant, my happy mood crashes and burns. I stand there for a minute, frozen in place, trying not to cry.
Finally I move forward and grab the note, reading it as I continue to the refrigerator. It says exactly what I expected, that he needed to get home and that he’ll see me later.
In all fairness, there are probably a bunch of things he's been neglecting while he was here entertaining me. The whole time he was here, he only left once to pick up some clothes and a few things at the store. That’s probably what turned my head and made me forget to keep my feelings in check. A man who grocery shops?
That’s enough to make any woman fall in love.
My shoulders slump as I read the note again. The disappointment that I feel isn’t even the worst part. It’s the hurt. Gabe and I may not have a relationship but I at least thought we liked each other. Someone you like deserves more than a hastily written note on the counter. Even worse is that after spending so much time together, I know Gabe. I know how he thinks, how he withdraws emotionally when he doesn’t want to talk about something. This is more than just a guy being a jerk after a one-night stand. He’s running scared.
Which disappoints me more than I expected.
Over the next few days, I resolve to forget about Gabe which turns out to be much easier said than done. There’s plenty to keep me busy between a new temp job doing admin work for a local law firm and poring over expenses for the club. But everything reminds me of him now and everywhere I turn, I keep imagining that I see his face. His memory is tormenting me and it kills me to admit the truth. It wasn’t just fun and games with Gabe.
I miss him.
On Saturday morning the doorbell rings just as I'm stepping out of the shower. I grab at the towel on the rack, wrapping it hastily around my head to stop the water from dripping into my eyes.
Who could that be?
Kay called me yesterday to make sure I got the basket she sent, so she knows that I'm okay. She very carefully avoided any mention of the fact that Gabe was at my house but I could tell she was curious about what's going on between us.
The fact that she hasn’t asked about it makes me think that Eli might have played a part in why Gabe left so quickly. I doubt I even want to know what Eli said to him. I sigh. Having family and friends who love you is a blessing but it comes with the assurance of them sticking their nose in your business and thinking they know more about what you need than you do. But if Gabe can be scared off from a few harsh words then he probably wasn’t going to stick around anyway. I shake off the renewed sense of hurt as I pull my damp hair back into a ponytail and dress in my favorite pair of jeans and a frilly red blouse that makes me feel festive.
The doorbell rings again. With a curse, I walk up front, buttoning the blouse as I walk. Whoever it is clearly isn't going away.
“Who is it?” I yell out. I zip my jeans right before I reach the door.
"It's me. Gabe."
I rush to the door and then look through the peephole. Shock zips through me and then just as quickly, a rush of heat.
What is he doing back here?
My hand runs over my hair, ensuring none of my wild curls have escaped my ponytail holder. When I realize what I'm doing, I shove my vanity aside and open the door. Gabe spent days looking at me when I was either vomiting or sleeping. He's already seen me at my worst. At least I took a shower today. That's already an improvement.
"Hey! What are you doing here? Did you forget something?" The breezy, cheery tone of my voice sounds fake even to my ears but I’m determined not to let on that he hurt me.
When he looks up, my heart almost stops. Why does he have to be so handsome? I teased him when we first met, calling him pretty boy, but he really is masculine perfection from the sharp dominant lines of his cheekbones to those firm, perfectly shaped lips. God, even the way his thick dark hair flops over his forehead is sexy. It's seriously not fair that he looks like this when I'm working so hard to pretend he doesn't exist.
"I'm here for my music lesson." He lifts the strap of the guitar slung over his chest. Then he leans closer and whispers, "This is for the benefit of your nosy neighbors."
He steps in and closes the door behind him. Then he takes off the guitar and drops it on the couch. It lands with a muffled sound.
"Is there actually something in here? I thought you were just faking." I unzip the case, shocked to find that there really is a guitar inside. My mouth falls open. It's a Gibson.
"Yeah, it's one of Zack's. I figured he wouldn't mind."
I cover my mouth to keep from laughing. Gabe loves to tease his brother but in this case, I don't think he actually knows what he's done.
"Um, Gabe? This is a really expensive guitar. Did you ask him before you took it?"
He shrugs and takes a bite out of one of the muffins from Kay's gift basket. "I haven't seen him play it in a long time so I figured it was one he wouldn't miss."
I stroke a finger over the strings. "You are crazy, you know that? Your brother is going to be pissed."
He walks over and taps me on the nose. "I'm willing to take that risk. I wanted to check on you."
His eyes are warm as he looks me over. I have to resist the urge to fidget under his gaze. It was strange enough having him in my house for days on end but to have him show up out of the blue because he's worried about me? It makes me feel things, things that bring me a shade too close to caring about him. I can't allow that to happen. It's definitely not a smart move on my part to allow myself to fall for someone who has been clear that he has no intention of falling back.
"I'm fine. Feeling much better. Now that I'm not contagious I'm going to visit my sister, Brenna. She's been worried about me and after the way we left things … Well, I want her to know there's no hard feelings. Maybe they don't think I'm an entrepreneur but we're still family. I don't want this to come between us."
"That's good. I have to get back. I should probably put that guitar back before Zack notices it's gone."
"That would be a good idea."
He slings the guitar case over his shoulder again. As we walk back to the front door, my eyes roam over him greedily, taking in every detail. I got spoiled seeing him days on end. I'm probably going through Gabe withdrawal and that's why I'm fighting the urge to invent a reason for him to stay. But I know I can't.
"It was sweet of you to come check on me but you really didn't need to do that. I could use a little space after … everything."
Hopefully he can read between the lines. I don't regret what happened. My body is still humming from the things he did to me so I could never regret it. But it's better that I don't get too used to having him here. Nothing good can come of that. As much fun as I had spending time with him, I have to accept the fact that he's not mine to keep.
Just before he opens the door, he leans over and kisses me on the cheek. "I missed talking to you."
Then he pulls the door open and leaves without looking back.
* * * * *
One of the most pure joys in life is the sound of a child’s laughter. I have to cover my ears part of the time as my nephew runs past squealing, wearing nothing but a Superman T-shirt and a diaper. Brenna looks up when he runs through the room again and then shakes her head.
"I hear screams even in my sleep. I get no peace around here." She smiles faintly as she says it though, nonchalantly turning another page of the magazine in her lap.
"Let me know if you and Evan need a night out. Aunt Sasha is always happy to help out. You know I love spending time with him."
"And he loves you. You're going to be such an awesome mom someday. Speaking of moms, ours is on her way over. Evan kept hinting that he wanted an apple pie so Mom made him one. I swear, she spoils him just like she does her grandson.”
"I guess I should go then." My parents visited me when I was sick but Mom was distracted by fussing over me. Now that things are back to normal, any interaction with my mom will revert back to her usual questions about my personal life and career, or in her opinion, my lack thereof. My mom loves me, I know she does, but I can't handle a motherly interrogation right now.
Brenna rolls her eyes. "Sasha, you know she means well. We just want you to be happy. Find a nice guy, have a steady job. You know, start living your life."
"I am living my life, Bren. Even if my life doesn't look like yours, that doesn't mean it's not valid."
She sits back and closes the magazine. "You know what I mean."
I clamp my lips shut to block the angry words that threaten to spill out. This is a familiar argument and every time we both spout the same words and end up upset. There's no point to hashing out the same things over and over. We have very different ideas about what my life should look like.
"Look, I know you guys have been worried about me. After the show—" A sudden rush of emotion steals my voice and I reach over to take a sip from the glass of iced tea on the coffee table to soothe my suddenly scratchy throat. Thinking about that day, the single most humiliating day of my life, will never be easy.
"After the show, I was a mess. I know I was. But I'm fine now and I've got a plan to get myself back on track. Maybe I'm not meant to tour the country and perform in front of large crowds but I've always enjoyed performing in smaller venues. I have a plan to open the club on time and I've even gotten a few new investors." I don't bother telling her that the new investors are Dad and Uncle Tommy.
Brenna looks surprised. "Really? That's wonderful. But I'm not worried about your career, I'm worried about you. You deserve to be with a great guy and not these losers you normally pick. I can't believe that fool Chaz had the nerve to dump you right before the show. Bastard."
"I haven't even thought of him at all."
She falls silent. Then gasps. "You have a new boyfriend and you didn't tell me?"